If this feels a bit contrived  —  and I certainly wouldn’t blame you if it did  —  that’s essentially the spirit of this achingly convivial sci-fi caper, directed by the team of Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (Clone High, The Lego Movie, and the Spiderverse films), from a screenplay by Drew Goddard, based on a novel by Andy Weir (The Martian). As with the previous adaptation of Weir’s work, it’s a film that gleefully presents basic scientific principles and logic clumsily sewn together with a story and outlook that feels very much like something an enterprisingly affable 15-year-old might come up with while daydreaming in Physics class. 

A brutally candid exploration of lust, obsession, and grief, deliberately blurring the line between romantic drama and psychological horror.

A similar scheme is hatched in Paul Feig’s film, although I have to be extremely vague about the details so as not to ruin the carefully plotted set-up. Suffice it to say, there’s a good chance you will utterly loathe the film as I did for almost the entire first two acts before the reward comes your way.